


the music is groovy (it's magic)

by sergeant_angel



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Loki: Agent of Asgard, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: being sorcerer supreme is hard bring a friend along, kate bishop starts a girl gang, life gets weird when your bestie is a demigod, movie/comic fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-19 23:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14248356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeant_angel/pseuds/sergeant_angel
Summary: Forced into early retirement, Kate has to find something to do that's not spywork avengering.She was planning on moping around eating pizza for the rest of forever but the Vishanti have other plans--namely, making sure the Sorcerer Supreme doesn't walk around making stupid decisions because nobody bothered to explain things to them.Honestly, she's got some constructive criticism for the whole institution. If someone always has to pay the bill for magic, what's wrong with splitting the check?





	1. Chapter 1

Kate stares at the paper in front of her. She's been staring at it for a good thirty minutes and the words have yet to transform into different, better words. 

Fury coughs, drawing her attention back to him. "Agent Bishop, you need to sign them."

"I don't  _want_ to sign them."

"You'd rather do desk work for the next ten years?" Phil asks. "Assuming you  _live_ that long, of course."

Kate swallows her angry retort, knowing that all it will do is net her another visit to medical to look at all of her various head pictures. Scans, x-rays, another showing of  _Concussion_. Yeah, that's not her idea of a good time. Nor is being a desk jockey for Phil, come to think of it.

It's hardly her fault that the number of concussions she's had in the past year has been...excessive. Of course, nobody is blaming her. They're just throwing around words like "permanent brain damage" and "death" and "idiot" and "retirement."

She resents....roughly all of those words. "What am I supposed to  _do_?"

"That's the beauty of retirement," Phil reminds her. "You have time to figure that out. The time and money to figure that out."

"But I'm Hawkeye!"

"And if you want to continue being Hawkeye, that's your business," Fury cuts in smoothly. "But not with us. Maybe if you take care of yourself, in a few years, you come back, get the evals done, maybe we stick you back out in the field. Until then..." Fury trails off, sliding a pen towards Kate's elbow. "Until then, I'm not putting you in the field. Or in a gym. Or a plane. Or--"

"I  _get_  it," she mutters, grabbing the pen and clicking it a few times. She is  _fine_ and this is ridiculous. She's just tired because Loki has been worrying about  _their_ new job, it's not like being Sorcerer Supreme is easy. Not like Kate really knew what Sorcerer Supreme was a month ago.  And now Loki is  _Sorcerer_ _Supreme_ and protecting the entire world from supernatural threats and calling her at four in the morning asking morality advice--

Kate realizes she has been sitting here, clicking a pen, for a very long time. Longer, at least, than she probably should. Click click.

A few more times. Click.

A few--

"Bishop!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Kate grumbles, scrawling her name across the bottom of the sheet. "There. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Fury deadpans. "Enjoy retirement. I hear Boca is nice."

~*~*~~*~~*~*~

Kate's first stop is the gym. Well,  _a_ gym. A strategically chosen gym. She sits on a bench and pulls out her wraps but doesn't even unroll them before they're being snatched out of her grip.

"No," Captain America informs her. "Absolutely not."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask!"

"I don't care what you were going to ask," Sam Wilson says, voice flat. "You're recovering from a major concussion. You shouldn't even be  _thinking_ about a gym, much less boxing."

"You don't know me," she says under her breath. Now she's mopey. 

"While we're on the subject, no, I'm not clearing you for Avengers missions, either."

" _What?"_

"Don't give me that look, Hawkeye. I'm not going to be responsible for you dying.  And if you leave the gym now, I'll make sure not to mention your death wish to Eli when he and I meet up later."

Kate can't contain her indignant noise. "You know what, Wilson, you were a bird once. I expected more from you."

"More than not letting you kill yourself? Okay. Right."

Sam not-so-gently shoos Kate back out into the world and she's left blinking into the sunlight, wondering what's to become of her. 

Moping. Moping and sadness food, that's a good place to start.

~*~*~~*~~*~*~

She's in Central Park when it happens.

She's watching the squirrels, who chitter angrily at her, as if  _daring_ her to ask Doreen to team up, as if news of her un-team-up-abliity has spread like wildfire, as if Phil sent out a mass text letting every hero in the Tri-State area know that she's one tap to the head away from chronic traumatic encephalopathy. She is  _not_ , that's a  _lie,_ if Clint doesn't have it she definitely doesn't—but apparently her impulsiveness, headaches, and inability to pay attention during briefings freaked Phil out. Not like she wasn't all those things before. 

It doesn't matter why, not anymore. All that matters is the outcome, which is that Kate doesn't have a job. She's twenty-seven and unemployed, oh God,  _fuck_. 

It's about then that she sits on her phone. StarkPhones are supposed to be butt-dial-proof but this is, apparently, not the case, as Kate discovers when she hears a familiar, if muffled voice.

_"_ _Helloooo_ _?"_ It calls. " _Kate? Everything all right_?"

Kate drops her hot dog in her haste to stand and fish her phone out of her back pocket. 

That feels about right; about on par for the day. 

"No, everything is  _not_ fucking okay, Billy! I just got fired! Well. Forcibly retired, because Phil thinks my brain is about to turn into useless dried-out shrunken jello--"

"What," Billy interrupts her. "Again?"

" _What?_ What do you mean,  _again_? Oh my god. Is this like  _Fifty First Dates_ and I have short term memory loss and Phil was right, oh my god, how many times have I had that conversation with Phil and Fury--"

"Wow. Okay, please calm down, Kate, you do not have permanent brain damage, this is the first time we've had this conversation, take a deep breath for me, okay?"

Kate does. "What did you mean,  _again_?"

"Ah. Well, this might be weird. Kate, what year is it? For you?"

"What  _year_ is it?"

"Yeah. What's happened? Gone on?"

"This had better not be time travel," she warns him.

"It might be time travel," he admits.

"Well, let's see. I got fired. America got engaged. I punched my dad in the face, Eli started working with the Avengers, and Loki became Sorcerer Supreme."

"Yes!" There is a great deal of movement from Billy's end. Maybe punching the air, or some similar physical type of movement Kate isn't allowed to do for another year. "Oh,  _hell_ yes, this is great timing. Kate, I'm coming to get you."

"Excuse me, future boy. What?"

"I'm going to create a hole in time and space and you're going to walk through it. Don't worry. You'll be fine. See you in a sec!"

He phone  _bloops_ as Billy ends the call. Kate glares at the squirrels, all staring at her. "You keep this to yourselves," she warns.

An old lady on the bench next to hers looks over at her, and for the first time Kate thinks: maybe there  _is_ something to all this concussion talk.

 ~*~*~~*~~*~*~

The hole in time and space is ringed by a glowing circle, golden light that reminds Kate of a Fourth of July sparkler. 

The Billy who greets her is older, but not old, though given his truly badass mutant genetics and general magic-godliness, this could be misleading. He could be a hundred. Two hundred.  _Three_ hundred--

Billy smiles and shakes his hair out of his eyes. So not three hundred. No self-respecting three-hundred-year-old would have floppy hair like that. He's greying a bit, but that's no indicator either. Kate herself found two— _two!!--_ white hairs a week ago. Not grey. Completely, utterly white. 

Kate eyes Billy's cloak. Or...future-Billy. Demiurge-Billy. It is stripey and magnificent, it flutters even though there's no breeze, and seems to know the most dramatic way to sweep around Billy at any given moment.

It is, in short, the most Extra thing Kate has ever seen. 

"So—how did you know I basically was forced to retire early?" .

Billy laughs, gives her a sidelong look full of fondness. "I  _am_  incredibly powerful," he reminds her. "And from the future. And your best friend. Besides Clint, though I don't think he shouldreally count, since the Hawkeye bond transcends friendship, but that is neither here nor there."

"So," she says tentatively. "Long time no see?"

"Not exactly. We got coffee this morning. You're trying to convince me that a pony isn't an appropriate gift for my daughter's birthday."

"Oh." Kate is  _not_ impressed with her future self, so far.

"You're trying to convince me to get her a unicorn."

"Oh! Well, that's okay. You should do that, by the way. It's a horse with a sword on its head. A mode of transportation and defense."

Billy tries to hide his laugh behind his hand and fails. 

"You didn't bring me here to talk about birthdays, though. What's up?"

"How's Loki doing?"

Kate stops. Stares. "How's  _Loki_  doing?"

"Yeah. As Sorcerer Supreme."

Kate's eyes narrow. "Shouldn't you know, being from the future and all?"

"Kate, we of all people know that the future is what you make it."

"That's a bullshit answer and we of all people know it, Demiurge." Billy doesn't even flinch, a big clue that something is rotten in the state of Denmark. 

Billy stares at her, and she stares right back. She's got nothing to do, and nowhere to be. Billy might be a god, but he's never had much patience. They stand and stare for a few minutes before Billy shows the first signs of weakening—shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

He takes a deep breath and Kate grins, triumphant. "How do  _you_ think Loki is doing?"

"Okay, I guess," Kate says with a shrug. "I mean, Loki is just kind of winging it—there's a lot of training and background knowledge that they just don't have but nobody is willing to give? Which sucks but is kind of understandable because..."

"Loki," they say together.

"If Strange could get his head out of his ass, he'd be a huge help to Loki, but for some reason, he doesn't seem eager to do that." She shoots Billy a pointed look. "It's almost like he got fired from a job he'd dedicated his life to."

"Okay, I can see where this would strike a nerve for you--"

"Which like, I  _get_ ," Kate steamrollers over Billy. "From what Loki tells me, Strange is kind of a dick. But then, so is Loki. And then there's the whole magic-has-a-price thing, but Loki's godly body can take it? Which seems a little classist, either magic has a price or it doesn't--" Kate's words are coming faster and her thoughts are skipping more and more. She can see Billy's wide eyes, and she can  _feel_ it, the thing everyone's been telling her. Her brain isn't working right.  "Zelma said she once saw Strange barf up a lung, so that seems pretty awful. You'd think you and your all-powerful Vishanti trio thing could figure out a workaround. It seems like poor planning to just...let one person take on all this physical bullshit and then when they can't take it anymore picking someone else and hoping they can figure it all out before some world-ending nonsense happens."

She hasn't stopped to breathe since she started speaking so she takes the opportunity to do so, and finds that Billy is grinning at her. 

"Kind of like  _The_ _Librarians_ ," she concludes.

"See, I thought it was more like Buffy, and it's super dumb to have just one Slayer, hoping she doesn't die, and when she does leaving the world vulnerable until the next one gets trained."

"Billy, you know I don't watch Buffy."

"How many times have I recommended it to you? Come on, Kate, you have to work with me here!"

"So, um." Kate presses her lips together, thinking. "Not to be rude, but what does any of this have to do with me getting fired?"

"Well." Billy opens a door and holds it open for her. "We were kind of hoping you'd convince Strange to...mentor Loki."

"Billy," Kate says as she steps through the door. "There's a giant tiger in here."

~*~*~~*~~*~*~

She's back in the park. The squirrels are still chittering.

_Magic has a price..._

With a sigh, she pulls out her phone.

_...even for gods._

MY BRAIN IS BROKEN _,_ she types out. SOMEBODY BETTER FIX IT _._

She puts Loki in the  _To_ section, and after a moment of deliberation, adds Billy.

_Send._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate gets a gang together.  
> it is, very technically, a girl gang.

Kate Bishop is standing at her door. "Verity. Verrr-ityyy. Verity!" 

"I'm not home!" Verity yells through the door. 

"Oh my  _god_ why you lyyying." 

"If you're here to apologize for Loki, then you can tell them to come do it themselves." 

There is a very long pause. "What?" 

Crap. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Go away." 

"Verity, please. I need your help." 

Not a lie. Verity opens her door with a sigh. "Come on in." 

"So, what did Loki do?" Kate asks once she's in Verity's apartment. 

"Nothing. It's stupid." 

"Is it their Zelma crush?" Verity must be staring because Kate blows a raspberry at her. "Look, just because my brain is broken doesn't mean...my brain...is broken." She frowns as she finishes.  

"Nice to see you're finally admitting that." Verity moves to the kitchen pouring them water before sitting down at her table. "So, what's the problem? Is it Loki related?" 

"Uh. No?" 

"If you're going to lie, at least  _try_ and make it believable, okay?" 

"It's not  _all_ about Loki," Kate hedges. "It's also about Billy—who I don't think you've met—and Doctor Strange who—have you met Strange? I haven't." 

"I was there the day he vandalized the Sanctum, but I don't think that qualifies as  _meeting_ ," Verity says. "Anyway, Zelma and Loki were there, too, why don't you ask them?" 

"I don't need to ask them. Well, we'll need to talk to Zelma, at some point, or get someone to do a tracking spell if I can't find him..." Kate rambles, following a train of thought Verity didn't even know she was supposed to board.  "We all know I'm good at finding people but how off the grid does magic get you, anyway? A lot? A little? Could he be standing right next to me and I'd never know it? I mean, that's super creep--" 

Verity leans forward, snapping her fingers in front of Kate's nose. "Hawkeye! Explain!" 

"Jesus  _Christ_ ," Kate gasps, clutching her chest. "Calm down, Verity." 

"I am calm. You're rambling." 

"I don't  _ramble_ \--" 

"You ramble. You have a concussion, and you're rambling. Let's start from the top. Why are you here?" 

Kate looks around, like her thoughts will gather around her like woodland creatures in a Disney movie. "Uh. Right! Because being Sorcerer Supreme is a terrible job and no one person should do it." 

"And that has... _what_ to do with me?" 

Kate is very, very disappointed in Verity if her sigh is anything to go by. "Verity. We don't want our friends coughing up their lungs. Or bleeding from their eyeballs, and that one I did see. You know, being Sorcerer Supreme is kind of a shitty gig. And I need someone who gets Loki." 

"You don't get Loki?" 

"Not the way you do." Kate says it simply, with no fanfare.  

Not a lie.  

"You were with Loki through—what are we calling that? A rebirth? Redemption? Loki asked you for help when they didn't ask anyone else, not even me." Kate masks her hurt at that well, but not well enough to sneak it past Verity. 

"I'm sure they would have called you, Kate." 

"That's not important."  _Lie_. "What's important is that I want someone at the table who has Loki—or Strange—or Billy's best interests at heart. And I can't find Wong." 

"So... _I'll_ have to do? Who's Wong? What?" 

"No! So  _Zelma_ will have to do, I mean honestly I think she could chuck Strange off a bridge right now and be okay with it, but beggars can't be choosers. Please try to keep up, Verity." 

Verity gives Kate a long look. "You're just. Godawful at explaining. Is there someone— _anyone—_ else who can explain this? Besides you?" 

"Nope. Which part is confusing? Is it the part where a few people rotate being Sorcerer Supreme every few months, or the fact that I don't think anyone who is, has been, or will be Sorcerer Supreme will be halfway good at organizing this whole thing?" 

"All of it is confusing because you didn't actually tell me any of that, but okay. I'm on the same page as you now." 

"For real?" 

"For real." Verity offers Kate a small smile. "I can't say I'm going to enjoy it, but I'll tag along." 

Kate gives Verity finger guns.  

Verity isn't really sure what she expected. 

**~**~*~**~** 

"Hawkeye." 

"Loki." 

"Are you just going to stand there, staring at one another, or are you going to invite her in?" Zelma calls. She doesn’t have the patience for this superhero posturing bullshit today. Also, since Kate's concussion she consistently wins staring contests, mostly because she seems to forget that she's having one.  

"Hey, Zelma!" Kate is chipper, bouncing on her toes. "Hey, I'm actually here to see you." She shoves past Loki, inviting herself into the Sanctum. The snakes hiss at her, as per usual, and skitter out of her path, as per usual. They don't  _dislike_ her, they don't seem to mind when she strokes their little noodle bodies, but they also don't exactly like her, either. Kate tries not to be offended by this and usually fails, at least as far as Zelma can tell. 

Kate Bishop has a weird relationship with magic stuff, but Zelma's still pretty new at this, and new to Kate Bishop as a human person and not a footnote in a gossip rag, so maybe it's nothing.  

Zelma also has a not-so-sneaking suspicion that Kate is responsible for the book donations that several of the schools Zelma used to work with as a librarian recently received. 

Not so much a suspicion as a stone-cold fact that Kate continues to deny when asked about it.  

Regardless. 

"What can I do for you?" Zelma leads them to the kitchen, past the refrigerator. Kate knows better than to open it, even though it's far less terrifying than it was when Stephen was the primary resident of the Sanctum.  

Kate still eyes it. Zelma has been informed this is a  _Hawkeye Thing_ and that all of those that bear the name are the kind of people that would poke a sleeping dragon in the eye just because the eye was at a sufficiently pokable level.  

Zelma puts a kettle on and pulls tea out of one of the cupboards. Kate's nervous energy is palpable, but Zelma's in no hurry. She doesn't know Kate terribly well, but she's easy to mess with. "Tea?" 

"Uuuhh...sure? Thanks?" 

Zelma doesn't laugh, doesn't give it away. This isn't a coffee sort of place and watching the faces Kate makes as she drinks tea is honestly such a delight.  

"So what brings you here?" 

"Well, the other day, I was sitting on a park bench all sad because I got fired, right--" 

"You got  _fired_?" 

"Not the important part of the story, Zelma, but thank you for your concern. So I was sitting there, right, sad, and I butt dial the Vishanti." 

"Sorry." Zelma sits with a thump. "What?" 

The tea grows cold, forgotten, as Kate explains how she went to the future and got conscripted into wrangling the Sorcerer Supreme. There's also a five minute tangent about unicorns that Zelma only half-listens to—it's the librarian in her, and instinct about which parts of a conversation are relevant and which she can tune out. 

"So what can I do? I'm not really sure what your plan is, here." 

"I know you and Strange didn't part on good terms, but I need to find him. I mean, I'd like you to stay and help run interference for Loki, but for right now I think we just have to get everyone in the same room." 

"I'll help. But I'm not dealing with Stephen," Zelma says warningly. "We're not on good terms." 

"That's fair. So, any ideas on where he is?"  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he's not living in a VAN down by the river it's COMPLETELY DIFFERENT AND NOT THAT AT ALL

Kate raps her knuckles on the window of the sedan. It's far more modest than she expected from someone like him, though the windows are heavily tinted and for all she knows it's an assassination-proof car. 

Or one that opens up to a pocket dimension with plenty of room. That would be cool. A person could conceivably have a comfortable life, living in a car that opened up to a pocket dimension. 

Behind her, Verity fidgets. "Maybe he's not home?" 

"Ver, where else is he gonna go? He's not vandalizing the Sanctum right now, so unless he's feeding squirrels in the park with Doreen--" she cuts herself off as the window starts to roll down with a whirr. 

The man who glares at them looks....angry. Unkempt. Dr. Stephen Strange is typically described as a suave, elegant man, with a distinguished touch of grey at the temples and impressive facial hair, but the man in front of her looks like he's spent so much time trying to track bigfoot that he's become the cryptid.  

Mountain-man appearance aside, Kate is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt right until he opens his mouth.  

"I don't need a prostitute." 

Kate tries to retort and the only thing that comes out is a vaguely chicken-sounding noise. 

"Don’t." Verity lays a hand on her arm. "He knows we're not prostitutes." 

"Drugs, then," Strange continues. 

"That he does believe," Verity confirms. 

Kate catches a glimpse of their reflections in one of the cars windows. "Yeah, I guess I can see that." 

"I'd peg you as an arms dealer, personally," Verity goes on. "But that might be personal bias.  _Anyway_." 

"Right." Kate straightens, leaning forward a bit.  _Prostitute_ , really. Well, she can pick words that sting, too. "Stephen Strange, we're here on behalf of the Sorcerer Supreme." 

He really wants to slam a door in their faces. 

Kate can tell. 

He doesn't have a door to slam, though, so he rolls up the window. Kate waits until the window is almost all the way up to play her ace. "We brought tea. Fancy tea.  _Smell_ the tea, Strange. And—what kind of pastries, Ver?" 

"I don't know." Verity rustles the bag. "A lot? You got like two dozen things I don't get why they didn't give us a box. Elephant ears. Fritters. Muffins. Donuts. Croissants. That thing with the marzipan--" 

Kate clears her throat loudly. 

"Right, but not that one, that one we decided not to get." 

Down goes the window. Pale grey eyes glaring at them. "I'm listening." 

Kate holds the coffee cup near the window. "Listening gets you tea. Talking gets you breakfast. Whaddaya say, Steve?" 

"My name is Stephen." He reaches for the tea.  

Kate pulls it back, just a little. "Magic Steve, you vandalized my friend's house. Now, get your ass out of your car and act like a grown-up." 

The window goes up. The door opens. Kate has just enough time to see that the car appears to be a regular car, not a portal to a pocket dimension, which is disappointing. 

"It's Stephen," he says again, looking like a grasshopper as approximately three miles of legs exit the vehicle.  

"So, not denying the vandalism?" 

Strange stares at her. Deadfaced, he goes, "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"Loki literally saw you with their own two eyes. You stood there and glared at each other." 

"Do I get that tea or do I get back in my car?" 

Verity inches up behind Kate's shoulder. "I've changed my mind. The evil male version of you isn't Tony Stark, it's this guy." 

"Okay, hold up, I consider it an honor that Tony could be considered my evil male counterpart but I feel like you just picked him because he's rich and I have, at points in my life, been what some might consider wealthy." 

Strange's eyes dart from her to Verity, and Kate clears her throat. "Anyway. Moving along. Tea, as a show of good faith."  

She offers him the cup of tea. His hand shakes as he reaches for it, a faint, fine tremor. He's wearing gloves to hide the scars she knows are there. "I'm Hawkeye," she informs him, moving over to a bench before backtracking when he doesn't follow her. "And that's Verity." 

"And what? You're here to talk to me about the Avengers initiative?" 

"Look, I get that you're mad because you lost your job or whatever--" 

"I didn't  _lose_ my  _job_! An all-powerful, all-knowing triumvirate told me I wasn't worthy to be Sorcerer Supreme, though how  _you_ know that is beyond me--" 

"Just because you got canned doesn't mean you have to be rude," Kate snaps right back. She's not needling him to be mean; that's just part of the deal. She legitimately has to know if he  _gets_ why he's not Sorcerer Supreme any more. 

Also, like he's the only person to ever be fired from an important job that they were good at and loved. Get over yourself, dude. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings?" His tone is probably supposed to be biting but It's hard to feel particularly bitten by a man who looks like he just got done living in the woods for ten years.  

"You did, actually," Kate says, and Verity shifts her weight, irritated by the lie. "Do you think maybe that's why you got fired?" 

"Please stop calling it  _fired_ ," Strange says, shoulders sagging. "Firing makes it seem trivial. It wasn't just—being Sorcerer Supreme isn't just a job.  And being told you aren't worthy of that job—that you have been weighed, measured, and found wanting, is hard to take. All right?" He tugs the brown bag of pastries from Verity's hands, walking over to a picnic table nearby and sitting down. "And to answer your question, yes, that's probably why I got--" he grimaces. "Canned. Because I've always had trouble seeing that It's not about me." Having selected a pastry—the one with the almonds, the fucker—he hands the bag back to Verity and looks Kate in the eye. "So. Did I pass the test?" 

"What test?" 

"The test to see if I've matured or...purified enough...for whatever's next." 

"Uh." Kate exchanges looks with Verity, who shrugs. Not helpful. "I have no idea what you're talking about, though you did pass the  _raging dickhead_ test I didn't even know we were giving." 

"Who are you?" 

"I'm Hawkeye." 

He looks her up and down. "Funny. I expected someone more..." He frowns. "More..." 

 _Powerful. Pretty. Tall. Male. Intelligent. Scary._ "I could not give less of a shit what you expected me to be. I'm here--" Verity coughs, "-- _we're_ here because we care about our friends. And because being Sorcerer Supreme seems like a crappy job for just one person to have--" 

"It's not a crappy job." Strange  _means_ it, too. 

"Okay. A physically demanding job. Psychic leeches and soul ulcers don't seem like your typical job hazards." 

"Not to mention they're more painful and traumatic," Verity notes. "The point is that maybe Sorcerer Supreme isn't a job just one person should do. The current Sorcerer Supreme and the future Sorcerer Supreme for this world agree that learning from you would be invaluable, and they agree that sharing the burden is smart." 

"Do they." 

"Right," Kate says. "We're here on their behalf." 

"On their--?" 

"Behalf," Kate repeats. "I'm here to arbit—ar _bite_ _?--_ arbit," she decides with a nod. "For them." 

" _Both_ of them?" 

"Yeah, dude,  _both_ of them. I know both of them. They like me. And we all got together and worked out a Sorcerer Supreme schedule. It's an every other month type of deal. It's really smart if you think about it and I'm really proud of us for coming up with it." 

"The very definition of Sorcerer Supreme means there can only be one--" 

"Yeah, I talked to the Vishanti, they're cool with it." 

"You  _talked_ to them?" 

"I mean, I'll be honest, it was an accidental butt dial, but they're really chill for ancient deities that your friend will one day become." 

Stephen Strange stares at her and it takes Kate a minute to work out why, to remember that most people  _don't_ know what that's like.  

"The Demiurge likes me," she says, hoping this will be enough, only to find that's it's too much, as Stephen Strange's eyes narrow at her.  

"The  _Demiurge_?" His fingers twitch on the cup, his eyes squeeze shut. "I  _knew_ I'd seen you before," he says, more to himself. "Well, they got the  _purple_ right, I'll give them that--" 

"Who? In what? What purple? Am I in stained glass? Did I make it as an original disciple or something? Do I get  _martyred?_ _"_  

"Kate--" 

"Right. Here for Sorcerer Supremes, not Hawkeye." 

"Sorcerers Supreme," Strange interrupts. 

"What?" 

"Sorcerer _s_  Supreme. Sorcerer should be pluralized. Not supreme." 

"But Sorcerer Supremes sound like pizza, and I love pizza. Or  _The_ Supremes.  _Can't Hurry Love_? A classic." 

"Also, magic is--" Verity starts. 

"Gross. Magic is gross," Kate completes. "No offense." 

"Quite a lot taken." 

"Magic always fucks over the Hawkeye." Kate wags a finger at him. "Please remember that. But, again," she catches Verity's glare. "Not about me. Here's the thing, Magic Steve. You're good at being Sorcerer Supreme. You're well respected by other sorcerers and demigods and beings from other realms and/or planets. You have a lot of pros in your column. And I don't know exactly why the Vishanti didn't pick you. Maybe it has something to do with your attitude, I will be honest, I did not ask. It seemed like kind of a personal question. Maybe they thought retirement would do you good, although if they could see you right now they would know that's wrong." She takes a deep breath. 

"I'm actually really proud of Loki. They're asking for help. That’s good. And I'm  _glad_ they're asking you because, as much of a prick as you are, you're a good person. You have a line that you don't cross. There's morality with your magic and they need that guidance. Loki admitting they sometimes do the wrong thing for shitty reasons is  _huge_.  

"So if you could stop being a whiny pissbaby for more than five seconds, you'd realize that all of those valid points you've brought up about Loki? You have an opportunity to help them not happen. Help them. Teach them. They're willing to learn." 

"Whiny little  _pissbaby_?" 

"Oh my god." Hawkeye throws her hands up in the air. 

"That may have been too much," Verity informs her. 

" _Look_ ," Kate snaps, splaying her hands out on the table. Strange follows the motion, because...well, of course he does. Hand injuries. Magic. Probably very aware of hands. "I just saw one of my friends cough up a lung. An actual  _lung_ because of magic. That's horrible. Why would  _anyone_ do this by themselves if there's even the idea of another option is beyond me. So what do you say, dude? Want to be a part of the revolution?" 

"Wait," he says. "What do you mean  _the_ _m_ _?"_  

"Billy and Loki, Steve. Keep up." 

"Stephen. My name is Stephen, or Doctor Strange." 

"Okay,  _Doctor Strange._ Loki, as the current Sorcerer Supreme, and Billy as a  _future_ Sorcerer Supreme, think it's a pretty swell idea to learn about being Sorcerer Supreme before actually becoming one. Apparently, there's a lot to being the most powerful Sorcerer in the universe. Who'd of thunk it?" 

"Anyone who knows anything about magic." 

"Well, you've got me there. That was a fair hit," she says, more to Verity. "So, are you in?" 

"In  _what_?" 

"In  _being_ Sorcerer Supreme again! Helping teach other people be Sorcerer Supreme! Cutting down on the coughing up of organs and the eating what I've been told is super disgusting food that tastes terrible and  _no pizza_."  

Kate has a strong feeling she's fixating on the wrong thing again. Verity steps in to help. 

"What she means to say is, are you going to be a whiny little pissbaby, or are you going to help save the world?" 

(Kate might, like. Kind of have a crush on Verity in this moment.) 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate continues to recruit gals to her gang  
> also, the toaster's warrantee probably doesn't cover that

"She was right," Stephen admits. "I don't enjoy living in my car." 

"That wasn't ever really a question, Doctor," Verity spares him a glance. "Also, Kate has lived in her car before, so. She knows." 

Stephen's brow furrows. "When did she--" 

"I don't really know, I just know there was a move to LA and an RV and living in a car." 

The doorbell rings, and even from the upstairs Stephen can hear Hawkeye clomping to the door and flinging it open with a  _bang_. 

Stephen has trouble believing the woman was ever a spy with instincts like that. 

"Christine, right?" 

Stephen shoots Verity a terrified look before making a beeline for the foyer. 

"Uh—yeah. How did you--?" 

"Big Brother is always watching," Hawkeye says, sounding more resigned than intimidating. "Also, Doctor Strange had some pictures of you and you were the last person to text him who wasn't associated with...this. Oh, hey, Doc," she greets him as he pulls to a stop next to them, panting. "Christine's here to see you." 

"Did you steal my phone?" 

"What? Why would I steal your phone?" Her eyes narrow and Stephen has the strangest sensation that she's screwing with him, that she's testing the waters to see if he can tell she's lying. 

Thing is, he's not sure. Usually it's an easy call, a gentle pass by someone's mind but Hawkeye— _any_ Hawkeye, for that matter—just...isn't. Hard to read as a species. "Putting it back after you looked at it is still a gross invasion of privacy." 

"Did you not hear me just say Big Brother is always watching?" 

"We're going to have to have a talk about privacy and boundaries in this house." 

"It's on the agenda." 

" _What_ agenda?" 

"The one on the calendar in the kitchen." She wags a finger at him. "You need to be more observant." 

Christine, who has been watching this exchange with an ever-growing air of bemusement, finally interrupts. "I can come back later...?" 

"Oh, no, now is great!" Hawkeye turns back to Christine, her whole demeanor changing. It's entirely possible Kate Bishop just doesn't like him, he reflects. 

"I just wanted to stop by and check on you," Christine admits. "I was worried." 

"I'm fine."  Stephen is only half-invested in the conversation, worried about a thousand other things. "Well. Better, I guess. Maybe we can get together for coffee once I'm settled in." 

"You're Claire, right?" Hawkeye asks the woman with Christine. "You sewed me up one time when I was working with Daredevil!" 

"It was three times, actually, but you were unconscious for one and on a hallucinogen for the other and I'm pretty sure you thought everyone was a dog of some sort." 

"Oh yeah! Ha. That was fun." 

"Claire is my girlfriend," Christine says, answering the question before Stephen can get to it. "Claire, Stephen." 

"Oh.  _Oh_. It's nice to meet you, Claire." 

"A nurse and a doctor who aren't afraid of magic," Hawkeye says, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Oh, to be a superhero in New York right now." 

"Excuse me," Stephen interrupts her...daydream of bodily harm? Who even knows? "I'd like to visit with my friend. Go away," he clarifies when it becomes apparent she's not picking up the hint. 

" _Stephen!"_ Christine chastises him. "I'm sorry," Christine apologizes to Hawkeye. "I don't think he ever learned how to be a human." 

"Don't worry, I am  _totally_  used to people like that." A grin. "We should get together some time! It was nice to meet you. Claire, good to see you when I'm not bleeding. Stephen, house meeting, five o'clock." 

" _House_ meeting? What is this, college?" 

"I don't know, I never went," she snaps. "I was too busy saving the world." 

*~~*~**~*~** 

PERSONELL FILE: BISHOP, KATHARINE AKA HAWKEYE 

NOTES: Agent forced to take indefinite leave of absence due to health concerns stemming from mission injuries. Agent Bishop may be called on to consult in the future, therefore still subject to mandatory random surveillance checks. Find most recent check enclosed. 

SEARCH HISTORY: 

Stephen strange surgeon 

Stephen strange accident 

Crime statistics hell's kitchen 

Crime statistics bed-stuy 

Bleecker street 

Weird stuff bleeker street 

Holtzman scientist 

Project manager job description 

Archery supply coupon 

LAPD 

Los angeles florists 

Image search: derek bishop arrest 

Motorcycle gang 

Girl gang 

Girl gang jacket ideas 

How many people before a gang becomes an army 

\---kate that's not how that works 

WHAT 

\---that's not how armies work, how do you not know this 

WHAT THE HELL PHIL WHAT IF I'D BEEN LOOKING AT PORN 

\---You never look at porn this early in the day 

Oh my god. Never speak to me again 

==END MANDATORY SWEEP=== 

*~~*~**~*~** 

GroupChat Members: Cassie, America, Natasha, Kate 

Kate: Uhhh what the HELL  

Natasha: what 

Kate: Ok hey guys uh i may have set in motion the future magical armageddon sooooo whoops. Like??? These guys can't be trusted to live in the same house I wouldn't trust them with my MCDONALDS order much less the FATE OF THE WORLD oh my god. 

Natasha: you eat mcdonalds? 

America: I thought you eating food was just a myth and all you ingest is coffee 

Kate: wow 

Kate: MISSING THE POINT 

Natasha: end of the world, yadda yadda, massive egos, blah blah blah 

Kate: speaking of egos 

Kate: strange was all "blah blah I'm the best dur dur dur" and i was all "i am LITERALLY the best it is QUANTIFIABLE and OBSERVABLE whereas your claim is just conjecture so sit down and shut up" 

Kate: he got all huffy 

Natasha: gee i wonder why 

Kate: and then billy had the gall to say, and I quote "the ego in this room is STAGGERING" who even says that 

America: well im assuming that came after you said you were the greatest sharpshooter in the world so 

Kate: galaxy. greatest sharpshooter in the galaxy 

America: the ego in this chat is staggering right now 

Kate: how dare 

Cassie: wtf dude teddy just texted me saying that you're going to be moving into the bleecker street house????? 

Kate: They got into a shouting match about living and working arrangements and then billy and loki both said they wouldn't let strange in unless I was there acting...on their behalf??? BASICALLY AS A BUFFER i didn't agree to this!!  

Kate: I'm going to die here 

Cassie: hey can I have your stuff when you die 

Cassie: and your apartment 

Kate: jfc cassie not the time 

Kate: it was weird agreeing with strange tho 

America: about what 

Kate: about me not staying there 

Kate: I didn't like it 

Kate: at all 

America: don't worry, if you die there we'll avenge you 

*~~*~**~*~** 

Agenda sorcerer pizzas.doc 

Discuss: 

Sorcerer supremeing schedule—monthly? Weekly? Are shifts tradeable? 

Setting aside learning times—observation? No lecture, loki+lecture=Bad Idea 

Assign/pick rooms—sanctum is home base for sorc. sup. And they should be present in the building when it's their turn (better to all live here all the time??? DO NOT TRUST these three to live here together w/o buffer(s) of some sort)-- _okay did not anticipate them deciding this buffer would be me HELL NO_  

Magic stuff—what should Not be touched 

The fridge—what the hell is going on with that? 

Also what the hell is going on with the giant crack in the wall down that one creepy hallway 

*~~*~**~*~** 

Kate Bishop becomes a fixture in the Sanctum. A quiet, hovering fixture, like a bird that flew in through an open window and has no desire to go back outside because she's realized there's better food inside and keeps stealing your bread.  

That might be too specific but she does have a habit of stealing bread right out of people's hands. 

She doesn't talk much to Stephen, mostly just passing messages along and being aggressively mundane. Most of their interactions involve her informing him that he is a dick. Her assessment isn't incorrect but the fact that she keeps harping on it is a bit irritating. 

Unwelcome insights into his character aside, he has begun to feel almost ambivalent about her, instead of openly disdainful, when there is an attack on the Sanctum.  

Stephen is finishing his breakfast and Kate is barely on her second cup of coffee, which means she's still over halfway asleep, when ten assailants burst into the kitchen.  

"You're, like, a medical doctor, right?" She calls over the din of Stephen using magic to throw men off of him. "Like, Hippocratic oath and stuff?" 

"What?" He turns to look at her and gets punched in the jaw.  

"Do no harm?" 

"Yes!" 

"Great!" 

Stephen Strange made the mistake of thinking Hawkeyes are only effective when attached to arrows. Kate Bishop proceeds to disprove this line of thought, starting by grabbing the toaster and smashing it into a man's head.  

When that man goes down, she uses the cord to choke another person—while her hands are occupied with this, she uses her heel to flip a tray over, catching the fork Stephen had used to eat his breakfast with and flings it into the eye of a man currently trying to choke Strange himself out.  

Realizing she is a threat, two more men take after her. Her elbow connects with a nose with a sickening crunch. She goes back to using the toaster as a bludgeoning weapon. "Attacking—before—breakfast—is—rude!" She informs a man twice her side as she beats him into unconsciousness.  

The attackers really seem to get it now, summoning mirrorlike shard weapons. Unthinking, Stephen casts a shield and throws it at Kate, who drops to the floor like a stone in order to deliver a kick to an assailant's knees. All the while, Stephen is whipping bright bands of light around, and they are down to two attackers.  

Meanwhile, the shield Stephen sent to her is...misbehaving...shuddering and bouncing before splintering into nothing. 

Well. That's weird. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: how many crossovers can I fit into one fic?


End file.
